


Love Found

by peachpety



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon Dumbledore Death, Double Agent Draco Malfoy, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Intense Emotional Action Sequences, Killing Death Eaters, Legilimency (Harry Potter), M/M, Magic and Emotions Conveyed as Color, Minor References to Past Snape/Lucius, Non-graphic Mentions/Recalls of Offscreen Sexual Activity Between Consensual Minors, Occlumency (Harry Potter), References to Past Forced Submission, Teenage Boyfriends, Threats of Physical Violence and Intimidation, love realizations, mind connections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachpety/pseuds/peachpety
Summary: During Harry’s sixth year, Draco Malfoy joins the Order as a double-agent and continues with his task to get the Death Eaters into the castle as assigned by Voldemort. Draco succeeds with his mission the evening Harry returns from the caves with Dumbledore. The boys reunite on the Astronomy Tower and, with the Death Eater’s arrival, are forced to engage in a fight, driving Harry to come to terms with his feelings about true friendship and romantic love.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 56
Kudos: 221
Collections: HD Wireless 2020





	Love Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quicksilvermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quicksilvermaid/gifts).



> The song prompt is [I Found, by Amber Run](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwGBYGexu_I) for the 2020 HD-Wireless Fest. 
> 
> When I first heard this haunting song, I just closed my eyes and _listened_. A snippet of a scene dropped into my mind, powerful and emotional. It was the scene around which I built this story - a reimagining of Dumbledore’s demise on the Astronomy Tower. HBP never sat right with me. I’d rewrite it in its entirety if I could, but this fic is what I have to offer.
> 
> This fic is my fest first. It’s completely out of my wheelhouse on a fic-writing boat barely launched, in a brilliant fandom in which I’m just now dipping a toe. This fic is one I loved and hated in the creation, a fic over which I cried, cajoled, laughed and fretted, often into the void and often, so very often, to others whom all deserve medals for their endurance. 
> 
> A huge thank you to the fest mods and to my alpha-beta team, VeelaWings, Mjabbers and Ladderofyears for your encouragement and unending patience! When I count my blessings, I count all of you twice.
> 
> Note: Contains non-graphic mentions/recall of consensual sexual activity between Harry and Draco, aged 16.
> 
> **Please see endnotes for potential trigger warning.**
> 
> Harry and Draco are, along with the other characters in this piece, fictional characters in a magical universe I did not create. I choose not to name the author directly in light of her recent poisonous diatribe, but acknowledge that she owns the characters depicted here.

**SCENE 1: HOGSMEADE**

Harry and Dumbledore materialize in the middle of Hogsmeade’s high street.

Harry is exhausted but relieved to be out of the dank cave. The locket weighs heavy and hopeful in his trouser pocket – another Horcrux found, another step closer to Voldemort’s defeat.

Hogsmeade is dark and surreally normal. The silence deafens Harry’s ears after the roar of the sea against the cliffs left behind. On their right, lights from inside the Hog’s Head cast the only glow on the deserted street.

Harry’s stomach turns. _Fuck_ , he hates Apparating. He inhales deeply, thankful to clear his lungs of the smell of mildewed rocks and drowned flesh. His stomach turns over again. He also hates Inferi. And Horcruxes. And maybe even Dumbledore a bit at the moment, if he’s being honest. It’s Friday night. He had much better plans than fending off soggy cadavers while force-feeding the old man what was most likely a death potion.

Dumbledore clutches heavy and weak at Harry’s arm. His blackened hand grips tightly, the large ring digging into Harry’s skin as he coughs. Harry instantly feels like an utter prat.

“Let me help you,” he offers gently.

“I’m fine, Harry,” Dumbledore says. He releases his hold, takes a step, and staggers, grabbing Harry’s arm again for the support. He chuckles. “Maybe I do need a moment’s rest. That potion certainly wasn’t invigorating.”

Harry leads him to a low stone wall across the high street. Dumbledore lowers himself gingerly onto the stones, and Harry sits next to him. The castle looms ahead in the distance. The sight of it brings Harry reprieve, a salve lightening his weary body, his spirit. It houses the things that he holds most dear, things he never dreamed he’d have: a warm, comfortable bed, good food in abundance, best friends…

and Draco.

At the thought of him, Harry’s body fills with an aching need so fierce it punches the breath from his lungs. They’ve been so focused these last few weeks on helping the Order prepare for the Death Eaters’ planned invasion that their clandestine moments have been limited to stolen snogs in deserted alcoves and rough and tumble handjobs in broom closets. Tonight they had planned the closest approximation to a date they could manage, only to be abandoned by the call from the Headmaster.

Harry’s hand seeks out the coin he keeps hidden in his trouser pocket. It slides against the locket, jangling metallically. The coin, a remnant of Dumbledore’s Army, anchors him to one of his favorite memories: Draco, shirtless, lips pink and swollen, sitting on the floor in an abandoned classroom. His legs tangle with Harry’s, and his trousers are unbuttoned, fly unzipped. Evidence of his climax in Harry’s hands moments before dries on his bare stomach. He’s focused with singular intent on defacing the coin, scratching the edges, etching his initials onto its face, and effectively carving himself onto Harry’s heart.

Harry has developed a habit of worrying the coin with his fingers, sliding it between his knuckles. The rough edges snag and prick his skin. The fleeting pain reminds him he’s alive, that he’s flesh. The memory reminds him that he feels, that he craves.

“I’d venture a guess,” Dumbledore says, interrupting Harry’s thoughts, “that you are not dwelling upon our recent sojourn to the cave of horrors.”

Harry shakes his head, biting back a smile. “No, sir.”

“Good. I’m glad the cave doesn’t plague you.” Dumbledore glances sidelong at Harry, his eyes twinkling in the darkness. “A romantic interest, perhaps?”

A hot flush creeps up Harry’s neck. He rubs the back of his head. “Erm…”

Dumbledore chuckles. “No need for embarrassment, my dear boy. I am the headmaster at a school full of adolescents, after all. And I was one once myself.” He stares off, ruminating, an expression of fond amusement on his face.

Across the street, a shadowed figure emerges abruptly from the Hog’s Head. “Headmaster Dumbledore!” Rosmerta cries out, voice panicked.

Beside Harry, Dumbledore straightens, alert. Harry frowns.

Rosmerta runs to them, clutching her nightclothes around her protectively. “I was putting the cat out and saw you Apparate. And then it appeared. Hogwarts, Albus! The castle!” She points frantically toward the castle with a trembling finger. “ _The castle!_ ”

Harry looks to Hogwarts. The Dark Mark hovers over the Astronomy Tower extinguishing the stars that had moments before shone brightly. The skull glitters green, and the serpent tongue writhes obscenely from its gaping maw. Fear grips Harry, cold and unrelenting like an Inferius’ grasp. The hair on his arms rises in gooseflesh response.

The coin suddenly vibrates and burns hot in Harry’s hand. Harry’s stomach lurches, and he hastily takes the Charmed coin out of his pocket. Letters glimmer on its surface. A single word: _Quidditch_. Draco’s code word.

A call to action.

Adrenaline burns through Harry’s veins, fueling the panic that expands through his chest. He turns swiftly to Dumbledore, ready to help him, only to find him standing steady, already offering Harry his arm.

“I cannot believe it,” Rosmerta says, fearfully. “What does this mean, Albus?”

With eyes to the Dark Mark marring the sky over the castle, Harry feels Dumbledore’s words slice through his heart as he’s pulled into the void.

_Death Eaters are in Hogwarts._

**SCENE 2: ASTRONOMY TOWER**

Harry’s feet land with a jolt on the stone floor. Beside him, Dumbledore stumbles. Harry stabilizes him with a hand to his elbow, and then he quickly scans the ramparts.

The Tower is deserted except for a lone individual, unmistakable even in the dim light. Harry knows intimately the lean, angular cut of the figure standing there, the weight of it in his hands, the feel of it against his body. The Dark Mark looming in the sky above irradiates Draco’s face a sickly green as he turns.

“ _Legilimens_ ,” Harry whispers, not trusting his magical strength after the cave to reach out nonverbally. He feels Draco’s magic, fluttering a familiar lavender grey like butterfly wings on the edge of his mind. His own golden yellow magic effervesces in response. He nudges questioningly and receives an answer. _I’m ok._ Harry releases the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Greetings, Draco,” Dumbledore calls out. “I do wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” 

Out of the shadows behind Draco, another figure emerges. Harry’s pulse spikes and he raises his wand in alarm. 

“It’s alright, Harry,” Dumbledore says, lightly touching Harry’s shoulder.

Snape, his robes billowing behind him like a vulture’s wings, stalks toward them.

Harry helps Dumbledore to rest against the stone wall. “He’s taken a nasty potion in the cave,” he states urgently. “It’s weakened him.”

A wall of magic shoves Harry out of the way, like invisible angry hands, and he stumbles back against the parapet. Snape sweeps past him without acknowledgement and crouches to tend to Dumbledore. Harry shakes himself off and looks on, suspiciously, while Snape mutters incantations and takes stoppered vials from his robes. He knows Dumbledore trusts this man unreservedly, though he can’t fathom why. He’s a fucking arsehole.

Draco steps up next to Harry, his features settling into the arrogant expression that makes Harry want to snog him and punch him in equal measure. His mind, still made accessible to Harry by the Charm and his permission, is its usual closed-off slate, uniform in pale purple.

Draco flips a coin in the air and catches it smugly each time. Harry glimpses his own initials on the coin’s face flash in the green light with every toss.

“Hey,” Harry says. He focuses back on Snape hovering over Dumbledore.

Draco snorts derisively. “Hay is for unicorns, cretin.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, tucking the coin away. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled neatly to his elbow revealing the Dark Mark branded on his forearm, writhing repulsively. The porcelain skin around it is crusted with angry scratches scabbed over in various stages of healing.

“Pardonnez moi,” Harry bows his head, sweeping his arm dramatically. “Greetings and salutations, Master Dickhead.”

Draco’s lips twitch. “Fuck you,” he mutters.

“You wish,” Harry says under his breath, exhaling his rising heartbeat.

Draco removes his hands from his trouser pockets, and his knuckles brush up against Harry’s fingers. His sharp features flicker and his mind ripples orange and peach for a fleeting moment, a glimpse of soft emotion so rare Harry wonders if he’s imagined it. Real or imagined, Harry’s heart flutters. His gaze falls to their hands barely touching and to the red cord tied loosely by his own fingers around Draco’s bony wrist.

Draco moves his fingers delicately against Harry’s, and Harry grins down at his sneakers. Heat mounts in his shivering veins at each minute caress until finally, he fists his hands and tugs at the green cord tied around his own wrist, twisting it to keep from shoving Draco against the wall and snogging his lips raw. 

Draco takes a deep breath, tilts his head back, and exhales forcefully at the sky. “You were successful?” he asks.

Harry watches Snape mutter over vials that bubble and shift through a myriad of colors. Dumbledore waits patiently, small and frail. Harry feels again residual fatigue from the ordeal at the cave weighing heavy on his bones.

“We found the Horcrux, yes,” he says wearily. He motions to the Mark above them. “And you fixed the vanishing cabinet.” He hears the unmistakable pride in his voice and clears his throat. 

“Obviously,” Draco drawls. 

Harry rolls his eyes. “What was the problem?”

“It was the twin cabinet in Borgin and Burkes, like I thought. My mum helped.”

Harry’s heart clenches. “She’s ok, right?” 

Draco snaps his full attention to Harry. Snape tilts his ear to their conversation, halting his mixing. The potions turn a golden pink in the quiet pause. Draco’s eyes rove Harry’s face as he gently flutters into Harry’s mind. _My mum?_ Harry raises his eyebrows questioningly and nods his head. Snape resumes stirring.

“She is fine,” Draco says finally, maintaining eye contact, his expression inscrutable, his mind smooth. Harry can’t look away. 

“That’s good,” Harry says. His heart hammers his ribcage, and he twists the cord so it bites into his wrist. “She will be safe soon.” 

As if to contradict Harry’s words, blasts and yells from the ongoing conflict downstairs escalates from behind the closed Tower door, drawing Draco’s attention.

Harry inhales a steadying breath, heart racing anew with adrenaline for a fight. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“More Death Eaters came through than we expected,” Draco says grimly.

Dumbledore sputters and coughs. Doubt percolates in Harry’s belly as Snape places the vial of rosy liquid into Dumbledore’s blackened hand. “You overexerted yourself, Albus,” Snape admonishes. “You should pay more attention to preserving your energy.”

Dumbledore’s eyes shift between Harry and Draco, an amused tilt to his lips. “Apparently, I should pay more attention to love blossoming right under our noses, Severus.”

Harry’s stomach plunges. He feels Draco’s mind quake in protest. “No, no, no,” Harry sputters. “Me and _him?_ ” 

Draco winces. “Me with Potter? _Disgusting!_ ”

“I think they doth protest too much,” Dumbledore smiles. 

Snape remains quiet, making a show of cleaning up the vials. Dumbledore studies him. “I see no surprise in your expression, Professor,” he observes.

Snape grimaces. “I have known for some time.” 

“What? _How?_ ” Harry demands. “I mean, there was that one time that Third Year nearly caught us in the Potions pantry, but we’ve been careful!”

“Potter!” Draco reprimands. _Fuck’s sake!_

Harry scoffs. “They obviously know, Malfoy, and ‘disgusting’? Really?” He narrows his eyes at Snape. “You’ve been spying on us?” 

Snape stands and turns on Harry so abruptly his robes swell around him. “I can assure you, Potter,” he snarls, “I have far better things to do than spy on you. _Besides_ ,” his words slice through Harry’s eye roll, “your feelings are painfully obvious, mooning over Mr. Malfoy from across the Great Hall at every meal. Any fool could see you are completely besotted.”

Draco coughs a laugh into his fist. Embarrassed heat creeps up Harry’s neck and pricks at his armpits. Harry clenches his hands. “As far as I know you’re the only fool to have seen it.”

Snape stiffens, his expression mutinous. “If I can see it, Potter,” he says menacingly through his teeth, “Then so can the Dark Lord. And it would be no surprise given your proven failure as an Occlumens -”

“Actually, Professor,” Draco interjects, tone unaffected, “Potter is quite a fair Occlumens.”

Harry opens his mouth to protest and draws up, blinking in surprise. Snape’s face pinches with disbelief at Draco’s claim and shock at his audacity. Harry gives Draco his full attention, visually and mentally. He’s as riveted as Snape by what Draco will say next and Draco, true to form, is not allowing Harry any access to his thoughts.

Draco calmly slides his hands into his pockets, as if he were discussing an Astronomy lesson and hadn’t just interrupted his beloved professor. “I’ve been teaching Potter Occlumency,” he says casually. “We agreed it was a good idea since his lessons with you… ended.”

“Spot on!” Dumbledore exclaims.

“And I have improved,” Harry adds. He glares at Snape. “Malfoy is a _good_ teacher.”

“He just needed proper motivation,” Draco says silkily. 

The coin in Harry’s pocket suddenly warms. Harry bites the inside of his mouth to stop a threatening grin. Projected into his mind in a cloud of lavender grey, he receives images of Draco’s last motivational lesson. He sees himself in vivid color pinned to the mattress while Draco tries to break through his Occlumency by distracting him with his wicked mouth and velvet tongue. 

Harry clears his throat, his cheeks warming. “I’m not as good an Occlumens as you, Malfoy,” he concedes. “But I am the better Legilimens.”

He sends a memory of a gasping Draco viewed from below through a lens of oranges and reds, leaning against a stone wall, his fingers tugging at Harry’s hair as Harry kneels before him, pleasuring him with his mouth. Beside Harry, Draco inhales sharply.

“You’re doing it right now, Potter!” Snape bellows, face contorting with anger. “You reckless, selfish — You have no respect for the danger you put him in with your careless thoughts ripe for the Dark Lord’s picking.”

Harry presses his mouth closed and inwardly cringes. He feels the stinging truth of Snape’s accusation as if it physically struck him. As much as Harry despises agreeing with Snape, in this instance, he is correct. _Fuck._ He never intended to endanger Draco, but they _have_ been careful. 

“We have been careful, sir,” Draco says.

“For both your sakes, let’s hope so,” Snape snaps.

Dumbledore shakes his head in amazement, laughing and wheezing. “Well, I, for one, am tickled at your finding a spark of light to combat the darkness.” He raises the vial in a toast and drinks down the thick rose gold potion in one swallow. His body instantly convulses.

Snape brandishes his wand at Dumbledore, and Harry, anger flaring, immediately draws his own, leveling it at Snape.

Snape freezes and tilts his head toward Harry, eyes remaining focused on Dumbledore. “If you want him to remain in pain,” he says coolly, “then, by all means, continue to point that stick at me.”

“A lemon drop it is not,” Dumbledore says, voice weak, “but I can assure you, Harry, the only thing this potion attacks are my taste buds.”

Draco places his hand cautiously on Harry’s outstretched arm. “Harry,” he says quietly.

Harry lowers his wand. Draco’s hand remains encircled around Harry’s wrist, his fingers pressing at his pulse.

Snape utters incantations under his breath, and Dumbledore visibly relaxes. “I’ve always liked this little healing spell of yours, Severus.”

“I could have done more for you if you’d come to me sooner.” Snape crouches by Dumbledore’s side and inspects his blackened hand. “Why you put the ring on in the first place, I don’t understand. You knew it held a powerful curse.”

Dumbledore shrugs, absently twisting the ring on his shriveled finger. “The ring holds the Resurrection Stone. I was foolish.”

Snape blinks, taken aback, and Draco’s hand tightens around Harry’s wrist. 

“The Resurrection Stone is a myth,” Snape says haltingly.

“What is a resurrection stone?” Harry whispers to Draco.

“It’s one of the Deathly Hallows,” Draco explains. “It’s a tale of three brothers who use the Hallows to cheat death. But it’s a children’s story. Mother would read it to me as a child.”

“And there is no mention of the Stone holding a curse,” Snape says, frowning.

Dumbledore sighs. “No, this ring is a Horcrux,” he chokes, words gurgling in his throat. Black veins creep up his neck from under his robe collar. Snape grabs his shoulder to steady his shaking body.

“He’s wearing a Horcrux?!” Harry exclaims, horrified. “Take it off and break the curse!”

Snape carefully moves Dumbledore to rest against the parapet again. “Oh, why didn’t I think of that,” he says sardonically. “We are saved.”

“It is a Horcrux no more, Harry,” Dumbledore reassures, breathing shallowly. “I’ve destroyed it. Professor Snape has kindly contained the curse to my hand.”

Snape’s expression is somber. “The potion from the cave, however, is acting as an accelerant.”

“You think!?” Harry says, his voice high with panic. “I didn’t know! I’d never have fed it to him if I had known!”

“I sealed my own fate,” Dumbledore says, wincing. “And too bad because I was really hoping to cheer the Chudley Cannons to League Cup victory again.” He smiles weakly at Harry. “We all die, Harry. It’s simply a matter of when and Severus did promise me a quick and painless death.”

Snape’s lips curl in a caustic smile. “I could kill you now.”

“You must wait for the Death Eaters,” Dumbledore calmly says. “They must witness you kill me.”

“I am aware, _Albus_ ,” Snape sneers. “I am but a mere puppet in your orchestrated play.”

Harry frowns at Snape, distracted from his panic by the bitterness of Snape’s tone. The truth of Snape’s words resonate in Harry, and he shifts uncomfortably. He’s always found odd pleasure in his skepticism of Snape’s loyalty to Dumbledore and the cause. To discover that they share common feelings about the old man, or common anything for that matter, feels strange, like putting shoes on the wrong feet. 

“It’s not the final curtain yet,” Dumbledore says. “How does the saying go? ‘It’s not over until the fat lady sings’?” 

“I still can’t believe the Resurrection Stone is real,” Draco says, brows knit together. “I wonder where the other Hallows are?” 

Dumbledore removes the ring from his finger and hands it to Snape, pressing it into his palm. “The Stone.” The smoky gem glints emerald in the glow of the Dark Mark overhead. He motions to Harry. “Harry’s cloak.”

“My invisibility cloak?” Harry removes the cloak from his pocket. The fabric shimmers verdantly as if lit from within.

Dumbledore shifts and takes his wand out of his robes. The black-brown wood luminesces green like new growth in the darkness.

“The Elder Wand,” Draco whispers reverently.

“The Hallows,” Snape says, awestruck. Above them, the Dark Mark shivers and dims and a chill runs down Harry’s spine.

“I confess,” Dumbledore says sadly, “I was fascinated with the Hallows, obsessed really. I obtained the Elder Wand, but my quest to possess them all came at great cost.” He presents the wand to Draco. “It is yours for the taking.”

“Me?” Draco stares at the wand. Harry feels doubt bloom muddy yellow in his mind.

“Only a wizard such as yourself can tame it,” Dumbledore says. “But you must earn its allegiance.”

Draco glances from Snape to Harry. Harry grins. He pushes his reassurance into Draco’s mind. _You deserve it._

Draco’s mind sharpens, like the edge of a blade on ice, and Harry’s veins thrum with excitement. Harry has trained with this boy, studied with him, and shared mindspace. He’s been at his mercy willingly and unwillingly. He knows how capable and lethal he can be. Harry opens his mind fully, ready for the wild ride that is Draco Malfoy focusing his magic and intent on domination. His heart soars in his chest as if levitated, and he grins stupidly because _fuck_ , it’s a beautiful thing.

Draco lifts his lips in a half-smirk. “Steady on, Potter,” he murmurs.

The smirk disappears and Draco points his wand at Dumbledore, speaking the Disarming charm with precise conviction. His magic bursts into Harry’s head, a whirlwind of lavenders and silvers, shimmering and strobing lilac and gunmetal. It blends seamlessly with his own golden magic, coating his tongue with a lingering sweetness, a taste he always savors. His groin tightens and he very nearly moans.

The wand clatters across the stones to Draco’s feet. He picks it up and turns it over in his hands. Bright purple sparks spew from the wand’s tip.

“Well done!” Dumbledore smiles proudly. 

Snape’s lips twitch in an approximation of a smile. Draco’s shoulders relax and he looks at Harry, eyes gleaming, his mind aglow with the pinkness of pride. 

Harry’s head spins, high on Draco’s magic. “Fucking brilliant,” he says breathlessly.

Draco smirks. “Junkie.”

Shouts and yells from inside the castle disrupt the relative quiet. The buzz of hexes and explosive magic rises up from the bottom of the Tower stairs.

“The war rages on.” Dumbledore sighs, “And I had composed a lovely epitaph. Ah well, I shall have to condense.” His voice lowers to match his serious expression. “You have the locket, boys,” he continues. “Find the remaining Horcruxes and destroy them. Only then will Voldemort be vulnerable.” The cursed black veins pulse on his neck and expand. He wheezes and struggles to take breath. Harry’s heart clenches.

Dumbledore turns to Snape. “You gave me your word to do all in your power to protect the students of Hogwarts. You must take over as Headmaster. The school cannot fall.” Snape bows his head curtly. 

Dumbledore continues, “Voldemort cannot be defeated without all of you.” He shifts bright eyes from Snape to Harry to Draco. “The Resurrection Stone, The Cloak of Invisibility, The Elder Wand,” he smiles. “The Hallows Three.” 

The dark veins creeping up Dumbledore’s neck like evil fingers spread to the side of his face. He winces. “Well, now the fat lady has sung. Although, a tad pitchy to my ear.” He closes his eyes and rests, his breathing shallow.

Harry’s throat constricts, and he scrubs his hot face. His chest burns with a familiar but forgotten pain, his spirit heavy with the burden of sorrow. Draco catches his eye. His magic tentatively lurks at the fringe of Harry’s mind, cautious and pale blue with worry. Harry leans into its comfort.

The Tower trembles as another explosion rattles the walls and floor and shakes loose pebbles and dust. Voices shout alarmingly close from behind the door.

Snape raises his wand, his movements quick and sharp, and Summons two items from the shadows. The carcass of a small, furry animal and an old boot fall at Harry’s feet. Snape swirls his wand over the animal. The creature’s still body expands and morphs grotesquely into a copy of Draco, lying dead on the stones. 

Harry stares, his throat constricting again. Draco’s lifeless eyes stare back, glassy and empty. Even though he knows the body is an illusion, Harry’s veins run cold. Draco looks at him sharply. 

“It looks real,” Harry says, voice breaking.

“It must if it is to fool Bellatrix,” Snape says flatly. “She must believe Draco perished while trying to fulfill his task to murder the Headmaster. It is the only way to ensure Draco’s safety.”

Draco moves next to Harry and nudges his arm with his elbow. “Don’t be such a girl’s blouse. We will be at the safe house soon.” 

Snape trains his wand on the boot and says, “ _Portus._ ” The boot shines bright blue, intensity increasing as the charm takes effect. Draco taps his knuckles against Harry’s fingers and hooks their pinkies. Harry closes his eyes and lets Draco’s magic wash over him, peachy with hope.

A sudden explosion rocks through the Tower foundations, knocking Harry off his feet. The stairway door blasts apart and a portion of the wall collapses. Rock and rubble rain down on the stone floor. Harry’s lungs fill with swirling dust and smoke that curls up into the night sky, dimming the stars and Dark Mark. He cringes, ears ringing. Wet warmth drips at his throbbing temple.

Across the rampart, Draco and Snape rise from where they had been pushed by the blast. Draco looks around, frantic. His lilac magic, pierced with the navy of panic, reaches into Harry’s muddled mind. _Bleeding_ , Harry thinks. He closes his eyes only to open them to Draco’s face, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, healing a gash on Harry’s temple.

“Don’t move,” Draco commands.

Over Draco’s shoulder, Harry sees bodies solidify in the dark shadow of the gaping hole where the door once stood. Voices shout and one calls out, “Snape! Malfoy!”

“The fat lady gets an encore apparently,” Dumbledore croaks from behind them. He raises his blackened hand and a strong wind whips smoke and dust around them, screening them from the exposed stairs.

Snape, covered in dust, face bleeding from rock shrapnel, arcs his arm and the air around them shimmers. “ _The portkey!_ ” he yells.

“The portkey is destroyed!” Draco exclaims, shielding his face from the dust, protecting Harry with his body. “ _Fuck!_ ” He stands and deflects a stray hex that penetrates the dust screen. 

Harry takes up his wand and rises. “So, I guess we fight!” 

“I cannot, imbecile!” Snape yells over the roar of Dumbledore’s protective wind, shielding against a hex and dissolving another.

A sudden putrid color fills Harry’s mind. He frowns. Draco points his wand at Harry’s chest, and before Harry can react, he says, “ _Immobulus!_ "

Harry’s entire body seizes up, his frozen muscles trapping his scream in his throat. A forgiving pearlescent white pours into Harry’s confused mind. “They’ve seen us, but they haven’t seen you,” Draco says apologetically. 

“Make haste,” Dumbledore calls out. His outstretched arm trembles with effort. The smoke screen thins, a hole forming in the middle like the eye of a storm. “The cloak, Draco, _quickly!_ ”

Draco shoves the Elder Wand into the waistband of Harry’s trousers and takes the Invisibility Cloak from Harry’s pocket. He grabs the back of Harry’s head and presses their foreheads together. His lavender magic, vibrant with streaks of oranges and whites, tender and remorseful, fogs Harry’s head, choking out his own doubt and fear.

_Forgive me_. Draco’s eyes shine bright and then lock down hard. He drapes the cloak over Harry, covering him completely.

Harry strains futilely against the freezing spell, silently cursing the strength of Draco’s bind, reaching out desperately with his magic. He buttresses against smooth grey coldness. Draco has shut him out. Harry always marvels at the conviction of Draco’s Occlumency, taking pride in its fortitude. Tonight, he curses it.

“The curtain rises,” Dumbledore warns before he collapses. Snape quickly vanishes Draco’s fake body as the smoke dissipates, but before it clears completely, black ropes slither from the darkness across the Tower and bind Draco’s hands behind him. He cries out in shock.

Harry’s stomach plummets. Atop the rubble and debris spilling out of the gaping hole in the Tower wall as if vomited, stands Bellatrix. The Dark Mark above them pulses and brightens, flexing in her presence. Draco’s mind solidifies further. He is reinforcing his mental barrier against her dark madness, and Harry quickly raises his own mental defenses. Beside Bellatrix stands a stocky man with a gap-toothed leer and a woman, equally as stocky and with her hair in a severe bun. 

“Dumbledore cornered!” The woman smacks her lips with approval.

“What are you so happy about, witch,” the man growls at her. “You lost our bet. I should be celebrating, I’m 10 galleons richer!”

Bellatrix steps lithely off the rocks, her long skirt swishing at her ankles. She nods silently to Snape and addresses Dumbledore still propped on the parapet. “Happy to see you, Headmaster. You remember the Carrows?”

Dumbledore’s face remains pleasantly expressionless in the twilight. “I’m regretful to say that I cannot return the sentiment, Bellatrix,” he says. “And Amycus. I see you’ve brought your sister, Alecto.”

“Shut up.” The stocky man spits at Dumbledore’s feet. He licks a lecherous smile onto his lips and turns an inquisitive eye to Draco standing bound and helpless.

Bellatrix points her wand at Draco, “Search him,” she barks.

Harry’s magic scratches at his frozen muscles as the Carrows manhandle Draco roughly. “And to think I bet for you to succeed, boy,” the woman grits out, grabbing Draco’s hair and yanking his head back. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Snape demands. “Release him.”

Amycus raises his hand in the air triumphantly. “I found a coin!” He tosses the coin to Bellatrix. A satisfied glint grows in her dark eyes as she turns it over in her hand. 

“Untie the boy at once,” Snape demands. “This was not the plan, Bellatrix.”

“Actually,” says a growling voice from the stairwell. “The plan has changed.”

A large beastly man emerges from the shadows. His ragged robes strain against his broad shoulders, and his grey hair and beard are filthy and matted. He smells of rancid blood and sour sweat. The grey slate of Draco’s mind ripples deep blue, and the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck rise.

“Fenrir,” Dumbledore greets. “I’m surprised. The moon is only half full.”

Fenrir circles Draco, slowly, baring teeth dripping with blood. “I can’t help myself when children are afoot.”

“Greyback was not to be here tonight,” Snape says stiffly.

Bellatrix laughs, and Greyback growls, his voice a grating rumble. “I’m here for the boy. Dark Lord’s orders.”

Draco stands rigid, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Harry can see the fear in his wide eyes spiral out of his control. A tsunami of panic consumes Harry and he struggles against the freezing spell, muscles shivering with effort, his heart beating a constant refrain of _no, no, no, no_. 

Snape remains expressionless, but his face pales. “I am unaware of any such orders. Stand down, Werewolf. Leave the boy and let us get on with the task.”

Bellatrix lifts her chin. “This is a new order, Severus. One which the Dark Lord only confided in me.”

“Stupid human,” Greyback scolds. Snape’s frown deepens, and Bellatrix giggles. Greyback leans close to Draco’s face, inhaling deeply. “You can’t smell it,” he says, “but underneath the overwhelming, delicious scent of fear, he reeks of _him_.”

Bellatrix steps up behind Draco, leaning to his ear. “Dear nephew, did you really think that the Dark Lord did not know?” She looks wildly at Snape. “He’s been fraternizing with the enemy! _Harry Potter!_ ”

The Carrows hiss wetly. “A traitor!”

Snape says nothing and Bellatrix moves to him. 

“I, too, was speechless, Severus, when the Dark Lord told me. But how you must feel,” she says, her voice taunting, “your godson, and the only son of your precious one-time _lover_.” She pats his cheek patronizingly. Snape smacks her hand away.

“Did you not know, Draco?” Bellatrix drapes her arm around Draco’s shoulder. He flinches at her touch, and she cackles madly, tossing the coin in the air. “Oh, please may I tell him your dark secret, Severus?” She continues, not waiting for an answer, “Your father and Sev were quite the romantic pair in our school days, spending all their time together locked up in the dormitory.” She points her wand at Snape. “Do you deny it?”

Snape’s silence confirms her words.

“Ah to be young and stupid!” Bellatrix scratches the coin down Draco’s cheek. “Like father, like son.” She glides back to Snape. “You and Lucius thought you were so clever to hide it, but my sisters and I knew. Narcissa was overly enamored with you two.” She trails her fingers over Snape’s chest. “I never understood how she could take your sloppy seconds. But then again,” she sneers, “she always was a hopeless romantic.”

Dumbledore coughs. “I knew there was a reason I liked Narcissa,” he says weakly. He slumps further down the wall, his head lolling to the side. Harry had forgotten about him, his attention completely focused on the macabre scene playing out before him. 

Bellatrix turns wide eyes to Dumbledore, her black hair wild about her face. “I will deal with her once we capture her, soon enough, make no mistake. Just like I will deal with you.”

“Disposing of Dumbledore is my task, Bella, should the boy fail,” Snape says cautiously. “You will not lay a finger on him. Nor the werewolf.”

Bellatrix purses her lips in displeasure but turns away from Dumbledore and focuses again on Draco. “And you, my darling boy. You have some skill, keeping your dalliance from our Dark Lord for as long as you did. You are a Black, after all.” She taps her finger against his temple. “But not enough! No one is as skilled as He at burrowing into your brain.” She digs her finger into Draco’s temple and pushes his face away. “Ferreting out your deepest, darkest secrets. Disgusting sappy thoughts of you holding Potter and kissing him, as if you are _in love!_ ” She gags out her tongue, and the Carrows sneer and leer.

Harry’s heart jolts and drums a staccato beat, awakening the tiny seed of hope buried in its dark recesses, encouraging it to take root.

Bellatrix continues, “The Dark Lord is very disappointed, Draco. He will deal with you himself. But first…” She throws the coin and Fenrir plucks it out of the air.

“I get to have you,” Greyback grins, the words rumbling against the back of his throat. He bites down on the coin, sharp teeth piercing the metal easily. The sister coin in Harry’s pocket shudders and then is quiet.

The Death Eater’s laughter pierces the night air, and Draco falls to his knees, retching.

Desperation claws at Harry, his helplessness drowning him. He feels Draco’s mind control shattering, the cracks oozing the indigos and blue-blacks of fear and panic, as has happened countless nights with Draco quaking in Harry’s arms at nightmarish memories of the beast now circling him. 

Harry’s mind hums with images flowing freely from Draco. Harry sees himself under the quidditch stands, hidden in shadows. He’s waiting for Draco, running the coin through his fingers. Harry realizes he is in the memory of the first time he summoned Draco for a secret meet-up - the memory Draco has anchored to the coin - unleashed now that the coin is destroyed.

Harry had been so nervous and excited that night, and he now sees through Draco’s eyes the look on his own face when he sees him, a smile so goofy and adoring, Harry’s heart skips a beat in his immobile chest. In the memory, he and Draco come together like waves crashing, lips and tongues eagerly sliding together, magic swirling in a kaleidoscope of iridescent oranges and reds. Frozen on the Tower, Harry can barely breathe.

Snape takes a halting step toward Draco. “Why bother with the boy? The Headmaster dies regardless.”

Bellatrix turns on him. “Still protecting your lover’s spawn to the end?” Her face contorts in an ugly grimace. “ _All traitors must be punished!_ ” she screams, spittle flying. She yells at the Carrows, pointing to Snape, “Don’t let him interfere!” The Carrows raise their wands and hold Snape at bay.

Greyback smiles gruesomely at Draco, his sharp, yellow teeth glistening. “I remember the taste of your scent as I held you down when you were branded.” He grabs Draco by the scruff, his claws digging into the pale skin. Draco’s body quakes uncontrollably, his mind an ocean of sapphire.

An amalgam of opposing emotions - hope and fear, joy and anger, honesty and doubt - wells like a spring in Harry’s gut. It roils dark and thick, converging at his physical heart and infusing into the beating muscle, igniting the pure emotion embedded there, planted by a boy he is supposed to hate but doesn’t, a boy who consumes his every thought. 

A boy he adores.

Greyback licks his lips, breathing close to Draco’s ear. “I remember the softness of your skin and how I thought it would yield so beautifully to my bite,” he growls. A string of saliva drips from his fangs and drops onto Draco’s cheek. 

Harry’s mind rolls over black like a shark’s eyes at the scent of blood and his enhanced heart expands. His magic, resplendent and resolute, explodes outward with a deafening boom, obliterating the immobilizing charm. In the night sky above, the Dark Mark bursts into bright, white flames, filling the darkness with a blinding light.

The Death Eaters flinch and scramble in confusion, shielding their eyes against the glare. Snape runs to Draco and crouches over him. A protective bubble protects them while Harry’s magic surrounds them, crackling in an incandescent electrical field. 

The Death Eaters raise shields and wards and shout defensive spells in vain. Harry’s magic seeks and strikes with extreme prejudice. Lightning tendrils, like electric fingers, spread outward in a twitching dance, leaving a pungent scent in their wake. The Carrows fall to the ground, collapsing as if their bones have been liquefied. Bellatrix and Greyback scream in agony and then are silenced, their skin sliced open by invisible claws rending muscle from bone.

The roaring in Harry’s ears slowly ebbs and his vision returns in gaps. He gulps air and sees the Dark Mark burning in the sky, bodies immobile on the stones, and Dumbledore, eyes closed but breathing, slumped on the stone floor. Snape raises his head and looks at Harry with a mixture of awe and surprise.

Harry doesn’t remember moving but he finds himself on his knees at Draco’s side. The moment their eyes meet, Draco scrambles into Harry’s arms, clutching at him tightly. Harry collects Draco into him, letting the familiar weight of Draco’s body comfort him and the vibration of his magic soothe his mind. 

“You’re ok,” Harry murmurs, a mantra as much for himself as for Draco. “You’re ok.” He feels hollow, spent, his breath easing as Draco’s mind calms, the violent indigo storm abating.

Harry senses movement and looks up at Snape, standing over him, face contorted with relief and something akin to affection. He bows his head once before turning away to inspect the bodies. Draco shifts in Harry’s arms and the coin in Harry’s pocket digs into his thigh. He pulls the coin out. The face is dull and dim. He runs his thumb along the rough edge.

“You saved me,” Draco says softly, twisting his fingers in the green cord at Harry’s wrist.

“Well, yeah, I need to even the score of our Seeker’s competition. You’re ahead by one.” Draco jerks the cord, and Harry chuckles. He sobers. “I, er, couldn’t lose you.” He takes the coin and presses it into Draco’s palm. The image of Draco defacing the coin rises up and Harry offers it.

Draco closes his eyes and then suddenly his magic pulses and he surges forward, pressing his lips against Harry’s, his fingers tangling in the hair at Harry’s nape. The kiss is completely different from every other Harry has shared with the boy trembling against him. It’s soft and light, and full of color, full of promise. They break apart and lean on each other, sipping each other’s exhales on shuddering inhales. 

“These bodies,” Snape calls out. He stands over what Harry assumes is Bellatrix. “The spell that did this is a powerful spell,” he pauses and looks at Harry, eyes shining in the darkness, “for enemies.” 

Harry’s breath catches with realization. “The Half-Blood Prince,” he murmurs.

Snape tilts his face up to the sky. Above him, the Dark Mark flames out until it’s nothing but a smudge against the stars. White ash floats down, swirling and dancing in the light breeze. “That was a long time ago,” he says. “Lily thought it was funny.”

Harry frowns. “Lily. You can’t mean…?”

“We were called to Hogwarts together, but our paths diverged. Lily was… ” he closes his eyes, “my best friend.” His voice is quiet with regret and, to Harry’s surprise, longing.

“Severus,” Dumbledore calls out, his weak voice pulling Harry from an unfathomable past back to the harsh present. Snape rushes to Dumbledore’s side, and Harry and Draco stumble to collapse at his feet. Snape removes vials from his robes and starts to blend the potions once more. The frantic edge to his movements fuels a growing panic in Harry. 

Dumbledore stops Snape with a hand to his arm. “The time has come,” he says.

Snape stands abruptly and throws the vials away forcefully. Glass shatters on the stones. “You think I kept you alive just to kill you? How many more deaths, Albus!?” he bellows, face twisted with emotion. “I almost lost Lucius’ son!”

Harry’s throat burns, and beside him, Draco gulps his inhalations, roughly swiping tears from his face.

“You astonish me, Severus!” Dumbledore says, eyes wide. “Am I the only one to know the best of you?”

“I know,” Draco says, voice rough with conviction. 

Harry swallows hard. “Me too,” he says firmly.

Snape stares at Harry, lips pressed in a thin line, chest heaving with rapid breaths. He opens his mouth to speak but is silenced by shouts emanating from the hole in the Tower wall. Witches and wizards pour out into the night, fighting and yelling, climbing over debris, too preoccupied with dueling each other to notice the foursome already assembled.

Snape, face now hard and blank, hastily summons a shoe from one of the Death Eater’s mangled bodies. He calmly murmurs the charm to activate the portkey while around them the night air shivers with the heat of defensive and dark magic from the battle raging nearby. He Levitates the portkey to the dark shadows away from the fight and clutches Draco’s arm, shoving him into Harry. “Take care of him,” he commands, eyes darting from Harry to Draco. "Take care of each other." Turning swiftly, he stalks toward Dumbledore’s still body.

Harry holds Draco’s hand tightly and they run to the portkey. Hexes fly and rocks explode around them, Draco obliterating knife-like shards with a wave of the Elder Wand.

Harry looks back at Snape towering over Dumbledore, his black cape like a shroud flowing behind him. Across the Tower, shouts of recognition sound and hexes streak by aimed for the kill. Snape easily deflects, his face locked in a fierce growl. Harry’s heart thrums, and Snape catches his eye. 

The action around them slows. An image enters Harry’s mind. The magic behind it pricks sharp like a needle and clouds dark like ink. It’s a young girl, auburn hair flying around her face as she runs down a grassy hill, laughing at Snape over her shoulder. Another image follows. The same girl, older, smirking at Snape across the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Harry’s heart cleaves. His mother. Another image appears of Lily, older still, walking with Snape in the school halls, talking animatedly with her hands in constant motion. She smiles at Snape, and Harry sees his eyes in hers. Then images of her eyes flash again, and again, and again, the last image morphing into Harry.

Harry’s mind reels and a realization surfaces, so fresh its raw edges cut through Harry’s veins, shocking him with its sharp honesty.

_You loved her._

The hard lines of Snape’s mouth belie the unshed tears glittering in his eyes. He raises his wand and shouts, “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” Pure blue light pours forth and a doe, calm and serene, canters to Harry’s side.

_Always._

Snape sweeps his arm overhead, and re-engages in the fight now continuing full speed. The doe stands sentinel between the boys and the ongoing battle, majestic and proud.

Sobs tear through Harry, shredding the back of his throat. He watches Snape point his wand at Dumbledore. The urge to run out of his skin encompasses him. Someone is yelling and he realizes it’s his own voice.

Draco takes Harry’s head in his hands, forcing him to look at him. “Look at me, Harry!” he yells. “ _Look at me!_ ”

Harry focuses on Draco’s tear-streaked face, allowing it to fill his vision, his mind, his heart. He grabs Draco’s wrists, closing his hand tightly over the red cord bracelet.

“You and me, Harry,” Draco says fervently. “You and me.” He thumbs away Harry’s tears now falling freely. Draco’s magic grounds Harry, the familiar safe haven of his lavender greys the perfect complement to Harry’s yellows and golds. Noise of the ongoing fight fades, and a calmness settles over Harry. His heart pounds steady and true.

_You and me._

“Always _,_ ” Harry says.

They reach for the portkey, and Harry’s roaring heartbeat masks Snape’s Unforgivable words as Harry is tugged away from the deathly green glow.

**Author's Note:**

> The story includes a scene between Fenrir/Draco in which Draco is physically threatened. I have been advised that a possible interpretation of this scene implies a sexual threat, and while that wasn't my intention while writing, please be aware if this is a potential trigger for you.
> 
> * * *
> 
> 🎵 This work is part of H/D Wireless, a song inspired, anon, Drarry fest with its home on tumblr!   
> [Check out the fest tumblr to find even more works!](http://hd-wireless.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Fic by peachpety. Find peachpety indulgently lurking on [tumblr](http://peachpety.tumblr.com/) and as peachpety on discord.


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